The Drowned Woman

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  ‘I miss Granna and Simon at times, but no, I don’t miss my father.’ He smiled at me. ‘My life is with you. I’ve moved on.’

  We had traveled for three hours when my stomach growled.

  ‘Ready for a picnic?’ Zeke asked. He drove off the highway onto a dirt road almost hidden by overgrown shrubs and saplings. He continued about half a mile until we wound up at a gravel parking lot abutting a secluded beach under a steep cliff.

  Despite his injured leg and the cane he now used to walk, Zeke carried the hamper with our food. I knew better than to offer to help him, so I picked up the blanket and followed him along the rocky path which led to the beach. Soon we made our encampment and dug into egg salad sandwiches, potato salad, and canned peaches. The cliff provided a shelter against the wind. The crashing waves served as our background music. When we finished eating, we lay side by side on the blanket, basking in the warm sun as seagulls circled overhead. For that brief moment it seemed as though we had no troubles at all.

  I kissed him. ‘I expected you to forbid me to get involved in Rachel’s murder.’

  ‘I don’t believe in forbidding. I don’t want, nor do I have, that type of control over you. Just stay safe. That’s all I ask. If things get dangerous, I’ll help you. Will you do that?’

  ‘Yes.’ I kissed him again.

  * * *

  From the beach, we headed inland, away from the brisk sea air and into the blazing summer heat. I dozed in the car for the last two hours of the journey and didn’t wake up until we crossed the railroad tracks into Millport. We drove along Main Street, passing a bank, a post office, a pharmacy, a hardware store, a women’s beauty shop, and a diner. People milled along the sidewalks. Some window-shopped, some hurried along at a surprising pace, considering the heat waves which shimmered from the ground. Trickles of sweat beaded between my shoulder blades and ran down my back. When I leaned forward in the seat, my blouse stuck to my skin.

  We rounded the corner and reached a three-story brick building with a row of police cars parked in front. Zeke drove around the block until we found a place to park under the shade of an oak tree. He rolled up his window and took the keys from the ignition.

  ‘I’m here to fix the business I left unfinished three-and-a-half years ago. After that, we are going to leave and – with luck – never come back.’

  We were interrupted by an obnoxious rapping on the driver’s side window. Zeke opened the door and got out of the car. The girl who stood outside moved in to hug him, but he managed to turn his back on her as he opened the back door and took his cane out of the back seat. I got out myself, even though I knew that Zeke would have preferred to come around to open the door for me. We moved toward each other and met by the trunk, the woman following at Zeke’s heels.

  ‘Hello, Sophie,’ Zeke said. ‘I’d like you to meet my wife, Sarah. Sarah, Sophie Winslow.’ Sophie Winslow reminded me of an elf – a mean elf, but an elf nonetheless. She had a pointed nose and big brown eyes which gazed at me with a fair measure of malice. She wore trousers with sturdy walking shoes. Above the waist, she was dressed in a blouse with a collar made of fine lace. A strand of good pearls encircled her long neck.

  ‘Hello.’ She all but ignored me and spoke to Zeke. ‘The cane makes you distinguished, darling,’ she said.

  Zeke moved next to me and enfolded me in the arm that wasn’t holding the cane.

  ‘So is this the new wife?’ Sophie smiled as she said this, aware of my discomfort and taking pleasure in it. ‘She’s had her name in all the papers, I hear.’

  ‘Sophie, when are you going to grow up?’

  ‘I am grown up, darling, and if you stick around long enough, you might discover that for yourself.’ She changed the subject. ‘Daphne’s planned a little reception for you tomorrow night. Mother expects you to come to the house at some point for cocktails and gossip. She’ll want to get a look at Sarah, of course. They all will.’ She faced me. ‘You’ve brought proper clothes?’ She didn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘Never mind. Daphne will help you. She always helps the underdog. God knows, she has a closet full of clothes that she will never wear.’

  Sophie didn’t give either one of us room to get a word in.

  ‘Okay, darlings. Got to run. Kiss, kiss.’ She hurried off, spry and quick, leaving a vacuum of silence in her wake.

  ‘That is Daphne’s little sister,’ Zeke said, as we walked through the blazing heat. ‘Don’t mind her. She’s a little fool.’

  More like a cunning fox. I forced a smile. Zeke held the door for me, and we walked into the police station.

  * * *

  A dark-haired man with a haggard face and tired eyes waited for us in the lobby. He didn’t have a drop of sweat on him, despite the long-sleeved shirt. I didn’t notice his missing arm until he pushed away from the wall. The desk sergeant, an older man whose face resembled a bulldog, looked on as Wade Connor’s brother and Zeke’s childhood friend, Joe, greeted us.

  ‘Welcome, Sarah. I’m so glad to meet you.’ Joe Connor had a warm smile and an easygoing way about him.

  ‘How are you holding up?’ Zeke asked, as he and Joe shook hands.

  ‘No more boxing for me, but I’m managing. I tell myself to be grateful that I only lost an arm. Others fared much worse, believe me. What happened to the leg?’

  ‘No more boxing for me either. One of your brother’s operations went awry.’

  ‘You should get one of those canes with a sword on the inside,’ Joe smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s go to my office so we can talk.’

  We followed Joe down a corridor of smoked glass doors with the names etched in gold letters on the outside. We stopped before one that said ‘Detective Joseph Connor’.

  ‘Impressive.’ Zeke ran his fingers over the gold lettering.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come back, Zeke. I’m sorry about Hendrik Shrader and that you and Sarah are in danger, but something’s happened …’ Joe hesitated.

  ‘Out with it, Joe. What’s he done?’

  We followed Joe into his office.

  ‘There have been a series of jewel heists in Millport. The thief – or thieves if you believe some people – targets the Millport elite. Initially the robberies occurred when no one was home. That, among other things, has led us to believe that whoever is doing these robberies is on familiar terms with the victims.’

  A large map took up almost an entire wall, complete with pins with red flags, which were stuck in random places.

  Joe opened a file cabinet and took out a stack of files. He reached inside one of them and handed Zeke a bunch of photos in various shapes and sizes.

  ‘Things have escalated lately. The burglar is taking more risks and has been entering the houses while people are there, usually while they are sleeping. He climbed up the Donaldsons’ drainpipe and stole Mrs Donaldson’s jewelry box, right out from under her nose.’

  We thumbed through a stack of photographs, all depicting jewelry – diamond necklaces, earrings, bracelets, pearls – and a large quantity of sterling. The burglar had hit the motherload.

  I moved over to the map on the wall.

  ‘I’ve put pins where the robberies have taken place. I was desperate to try something. As you can see, the victims are all concentrated in that eight-mile circumference. This guy is physically fit. He’s nimble, which also leads me to believe that he doesn’t live here. All the usual suspects enlisted and are no longer in Millport. So we’re looking for an outsider, which should help.’

  ‘Are you saying that Millport has a cat burglar?’ Zeke said.

  ‘Yes,’ Joe said.

  ‘Press?’ Zeke asked.

  ‘Haven’t gotten a hold of it yet,’ Joe said. ‘But it’s just a matter of time. The victims don’t want their names made public, and the various insurance companies are eager to recover the jewels so they don’t have to pay the claims. It’s a nightmare and of course, no one is happy with my efforts.’

  ‘Surely you don’t think my brother has been climbi
ng into people’s homes and stealing their valuables?’

  ‘He’s recently paid off a large gambling debt. Where did he get the money? He won’t tell me. I’ve asked him repeatedly. There are some who believe that I am not objective because of my connection to your family. You know as well as I do that Simon has been headed for trouble.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he has the emeralds, or that he had anything to do with Rachel’s death.’

  ‘I realize that. But an emerald turns up and all of a sudden Simon has the money to pay off his sizable gambling debts. The newspapers haven’t yet discovered that one of the emeralds has turned up. But they will. Everyone in town knows. Conclusions have been drawn. I will keep you informed as to what’s going on. You’re home now. We’ll sort this out. As for the other thing, I’ve spoken to Wade. A few of us in the department know what’s going on. If anyone comes after you, we’ll soon know about it.’

  ‘Who discovered the emerald in Portland?’

  ‘My father. Since he retired, he’s been obsessed with Rachel’s case. He claims that he will solve her murder before he dies, and if he doesn’t, he’ll come back from the grave to see justice done.’

  ‘Do you need my help? If my brother is a suspect …’ Zeke didn’t finish his sentence.

  ‘As of now, I don’t need your help. Since your brother is a potential suspect, your involvement would start speculation and rumor. I can promise to keep you informed, but that’s the extent of it. Wade has offered his services in tracing the emerald. That should help, but it’s going to take some time.’

  ‘I believe you have something for me?’ Zeke asked.

  Joe took a black leather case the size of a large book out of his desk drawer.

  ‘I expect you to teach her to be safe with this,’ he said as he handed it to Zeke.

  ‘Sarah, this is for you,’ Zeke said. He laid the box on the desk and stepped aside. ‘Open it.’

  I undid the brass latch and lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a tiny gun made of gleaming silver, with a mother-of-pearl handle. I recoiled.

  ‘What am I going to do with that?’ I asked.

  ‘You are going to learn to use it to defend yourself,’ Zeke said.

  ‘I will not. I refuse. You know very well that I would never shoot anyone no matter what they were doing,’ I said.

  Joe Connor intervened on Zeke’s behalf. ‘Sarah, the men who are after you and Zeke are dangerous. I usually do not condone civilians carrying guns, especially women, but I think in this instance Zeke’s right. Just take the gun, Sarah. Let Zeke show you how to use it. Practice a bit. When this man who is after you is back in custody, you can put it away.’

  I looked at my husband and his well-intentioned friend. Hendrik Shrader was a dangerous man. I knew that. But the question remained, would I actually be able to shoot him?

  ‘You’d shoot him if he was going to harm you,’ Zeke said, as if he could read my mind. ‘And I know you’d shoot him if he was going to harm me.’

  He was right. With a sinking feeling, I acquiesced.

  Chapter 2

  ‘I forgot about this oppressive heat.’ Zeke loosened his tie, removed it, and handed it to me. I rolled it up and tucked it into my purse, next to the case which held my gun.

  ‘The mill is about two miles that way,’ Zeke pointed as he turned onto a tree-lined dirt road, kicking up dust in our wake. We passed pastures with weather-beaten fences and tall golden grass shimmering in the afternoon heat. Horses grazed here, their coats glistening in the sun. A man on a tractor made tracks through the grass, waving at us as we drove by. We came to a pasture surrounded by a white fence, where four horses grazed. One of the horses, a giant red beast, pricked his ears and raised his head as the car approached.

  ‘Prepare yourself, my love,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve no idea,’ he said.

  We drove on, following the white fence as it wove around the oak trees. The red horse broke away from the herd and ran toward us, keeping pace with our car. He kicked his heels a few times, before he lost interest in us and ran back to the others.

  ‘That’s Seadrift, Daphne’s horse,’ Zeke said.

  We turned into a tree-lined driveway, which wove through a shady canopy for about a half mile before the house came into view – a two-story structure made of gray stone with a shale roof. A sloping flower bed abutted the driveway. Burgeoning blooms in a riot of color almost shielded the woman who squatted among them. She held a spray can and worked the beds with industry, deadheading blooms, spraying the plant when she finished, and scooting down the row. She had a rhythm and made quick work of the project. I recognized larkspur, foxglove, delphinium, sunflowers, all melded together in a vibrant burst of color.

  When Zeke tooted the horn, the woman stood. When she took off her hat, a mass of auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders.

  ‘None of those flowers was here when I left.’ He turned off the ignition. ‘If we were to stay on this road, we’d run into the stables. All that grassland back there is where we get our hay. What Daphne doesn’t use for her horses, we sell.’

  ‘How much property is there?’ A fresh batch of sweat pooled between my shoulder blades and started to trickle down my back. I opened the passenger door, but the breeze did little to dispel the heat.

  ‘Three hundred and fifty acres,’ Zeke said. ‘I wanted to grow grapes for wine and start a vineyard – never mind. Let’s go in.’

  The door burst open and a ginger-haired boy, who I guessed to be five or six, came tumbling down the stairs and running towards Zeke.

  ‘Uncle Zeke, Uncle Zeke!’ The boy launched himself at Zeke, who somehow managed to sweep the child up with one arm, while maintaining hold of his cane.

  ‘Toby!’ Zeke spun him around, hiding the pain that I was certain the activity caused. He set the boy down and leaned against the car.

  ‘You must be Sarah,’ Daphne said. She wiped her hands on her trousers and held one out for me to shake. She took my hand in a strong grip and shook it, then saw Zeke taking the bags out of the trunk and went to help him.

  ‘Give me a hug, brother-in-law,’ she said. She and Zeke hugged, and Daphne air-kissed his cheek. ‘Simon’s at the mill. He asked you to join him as soon as you got here. Why don’t you leave the bags, and I’ll get Sarah situated.’

  ‘We brought food, too,’ I said.

  ‘Perfect,’ Daphne said.

  ‘Uncle Zeke, I’m getting a pony.’ The boy still clambered over Zeke, who was taking our suitcases, my typewriter, and the box of food out of the trunk.

  ‘And Father?’ Zeke asked.

  ‘Running errands today,’ Daphne said. An unspoken current passed between my husband and Daphne, words unsaid, but their meaning conveyed nonetheless.

  ‘Toby, your uncle has a sore leg. He’s also trying to carry things. Please quit climbing all over him.’

  ‘I can help. Sometimes ponies carry things. I don’t know if they carry suitcases, but my pony will do anything I ask,’ the boy said.

  ‘That’s marvelous, old boy. I think you’d be great on a pony,’ Zeke said. He climbed the stone steps and set the box of food next to our suitcases on the front porch. When he walked back down the stairs, Daphne noticed the limp.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Daphne said.

  ‘I know,’ I answered, speaking just loud enough for her to hear.

  The three of us stood for a moment, watching Toby run in circles as he pretended to ride an imaginary pony.

  ‘I should really go to Simon. You don’t mind if I leave you?’ Zeke asked.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll show her around,’ Daphne said.

  ‘See you soon.’ He kissed my cheek, got in the car, and drove away.

  ‘Miss.’ The boy came up to me now, as if noticing me for the first time. ‘Do you like ponies? I’m getting one of my own.’

  ‘He’s not getting one until he can muck out a st
all,’ Daphne said. ‘Toby, say hello to Sarah. She’s your aunt.’

  Toby skewed up his face, processing this bit of news. In a brilliant flash of understanding, his face broke into a big smile.

  ‘That’s super.’ He took my hand.

  ‘Sarah is going to be here awhile, darling. Go find Granna, would you? She is waiting to read to you.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the boy said. He waved at me and ran off.

  ‘What a bright child,’ I said.

  ‘He’s a handful,’ Daphne said. ‘Would you like to go inside and freshen up, or would you like the quick tour?’

  ‘Should we take the food inside?’

  ‘Don’t worry. By the time we get back, Mrs Griswold will have all that sorted out.’

  ‘Tour, please,’ I said to Daphne.

  ‘Fabulous.’ She hooked her arm in mine. ‘We’ll start with the gardens.’

  * * *

  ‘I try to get out here and tend to these beds myself, but it has been so hot these past few weeks, I’ve only been able to work in the early morning.’

  ‘How many horses do you have?’ We had strolled among the gardens in front of the house, through a rose garden nestled in the middle of a grove of shade trees, and were now sitting on a bench under the gnarled limbs of a majestic oak tree amid ferns, hydrangea, and other shade-loving plants that I did not recognize.

  ‘I have four, all told. Seadrift is my favorite. I bought him when he was a two-year old and broke him myself. I give lessons to the local children.’ She stopped as I wiped the sweat which ran down my face. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m just not used to the heat,’ I explained. ‘Zeke and I live near the bay, so it doesn’t get this hot.’

  ‘Let’s head back,’ Daphne said. ‘We are desperate for rain. One of these days the sky will break open, and we will get a little relief.’

  Daphne pointed out the various plants and trees as we walked.

  ‘It will be cool in the house,’ Daphne said. An elderly woman waited for us in the doorway. She wore a lightweight floral housedress – perfect for this scorching heat – with her silvery-blue hair tucked into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Sparkling eyes smiled out of her plump face.